This book paves the way to an enjoyable reading of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, by presenting the legends about the causes of the Trojan War woven into a continuous narrative, ending where the story of the Iliad begins. The youthful Odysseus is the hero, as he journeys to visit his grandfather Autolycus, then Nestor and Menelaus, hearing the old stories as he goes. Ages 8-12

293 pages

$11.95

HEROES IN STRANGE GARB

[226] THERE dwelt at Mycenæ a wise soothsayer, named
Calchas,—a man versed in all the lore of earth and
sky, and holding some sort of communion with the
immortals. He could lift the veil of the future, and
see what to other men lay hidden in the darkness; and
next to the Pythian oracle at Delphi, or the talking
oak of Dodona, he was held in high repute as knowing
the counsels of the gods. When all the great chiefs sat
one day in Agamemnon's hall, and talked of their
warriors and their ships and their arms, and boasted of
their readiness to sail at once for Ilios, the old
soothsayer came and stood before them. His white locks
streamed in flowing waves about his shoulders; his gray
eyes gleamed with a strange, wild light; he moved his
long arms to and fro above his head, and pointed with
his thin fingers first towards the sky, and then
towards the sea.

"Hearken ye to the seer," said Menelaus; "he has had a
vision, and perchance he can tell us how we shall fare
in this great business which we have undertaken."

[227] Then Calchas spoke and said, "Verily I know not any
thing of this matter, save by the gift of soothsaying
which the far-darting Apollo has bestowed upon me. Yet
when I inquired of him, this answer did he give: 'Let
the long haired Hellenes make war upon Troy. They shall
not prevail against that city unless Achilles, the dear
son of Thetis, lead them.' Send now for him, and enlist
him in your cause; for otherwise you shall fail, and
the Trojans shall boast of your ruin!"

Having said these words, the seer strode from the hall,
leaving the hero chiefs alone. For a time they sat in
silence, each pondering the matter in his own mind.
Then Agamemnon spoke, and his words were full of anger
and unbelief. "Never yet," said he, "did Calchas
prophesy any thing but ill. He sees naught but evil;
and when we feel most sure of success, then it is the
joy of his heart to foretell failure. Now, after the
gods have thus far favored us, and when all things are
in readiness for the gathering together of our forces,
this woful soothsayer comes to tell us that without
Achilles we shall fail. For my part, I care little for
his words, and am willing to run all risks."

"Say not so," quickly answered Odysseus. "The old man
speaks as Apollo gives him utterance; and no man shall
dare put his judgment in the scales against the
foreknowledge of the gods. Let us seek Achilles at
once, and persuade him to join us in our league against
Ilios."

[228] "But who shall find him?" asked Menelaus. "Two months
ago, I was in Iolcos by the sea, whither I had gone to
see old Peleus. I found that that aged king dwelt no
longer in the ancient city, but had removed into his
own country of Phthia, and there abode among his
Myrmidons. Into Phthia, therefore, I went, hoping to
find Achilles also there. But old Peleus wept when I
asked about his son. 'In truth, I know not where the
young man is,' he said, in answer to my questions. 'For
when the news was noised about, that the chiefs of
Hellas were planning war upon Troy, then silver-footed
Thetis carried her son into some distant, unknown land,
and hid him there. For the Fates have declared the doom
of Achilles, that his days on earth shall be few but
glorious; and his mother feared, that, should he join
in the great war, he would meet an untimely death.
Thus, then, it is that I am bereft already of my only
son; for I know not whether I shall ever again behold
him.' In this manner Peleus, the lord of horses,
bewailed the absence of his son. And though in every
city I sought news concerning the whereabouts of the
young hero, I could learn nothing whatever. Even
Patroclus, his bosom friend and comrade, wept for him
as for one dead. I do not believe that he can be found
in Hellas."

Then Nestor the wise arose and spoke. "It does not
become us," he said, "to doubt or dispute the words of
Calchas the seer. Therefore we must find Achilles, and
win him to our cause; or, laying aside all thought
[229] of
war, we must humbly surrender to Paris the noblest
treasure of our country, even beauteous Helen."

"Achilles can be found," said Odysseus. "I myself will
seek him, and the moon shall not wane thrice ere I
shall have found him. Let the best ship in Argos be put
in readiness at once; and let a crew of the most
skilful oarsmen be chosen, and a good store of food be
put into the hold. I will embark to-morrow, and you
shall see me no more until I bring good news of
Thetis's godlike son."

So then Odysseus set sail on a long, uncertain voyage
to the islands of the sea, in search of the hidden
hero. Vainly did he visit Cythera, the lofty isle where
Aphrodite first rose in all her beauty from the salt
sea-foam; he touched at Melos, rich in corn and wine;
he skirted Paros, known to all the world for its figs
and its spotless marble; he stopped for a month at
sacred Delos, the birthplace of Apollo; he explored
well-watered Ophiussa, where serpents curse the ground,
and grapes grow purple on the climbing vines; he sought
long time in Andros among the groves and in the temple
sacred to ruddy-faced Dionysus: yet in none of these
lands heard he any news of the godlike son of Peleus.
Weary of their long and fruitless voyage, the comrades
of Odysseus murmured sorely, and besought him to return
to Mycenæ, and give up the search. But he turned
a deaf ear to their pleadings, and sailed away to
Scyros, where old Lycomedes reigned. For the
bright-eyed goddess Athené had whispered to him
in
[230] a dream, and told him that in the court of Lycomedes
he would find the hero for whom he sought.

In a narrow inlet, hidden by trees and tall reeds, the
ship was moored, while shrewd Odysseus went alone and
unheralded to the palace of the king. He had laid aside
his warrior's gear, and was now attired in the guise of
a wandering peddler, and loaded with a heavy pack of
precious wares. And lo! as he neared the high-built
halls of Lycomedes, he came to a spacious garden just
outside of the courtyard, and hard by the lofty gate. A
green hedge ran round it on four sides, while within
grew many tall trees laden with fruits and blossoms,—pear
trees, pomegranates, apple trees, and olives. So
well cared for were these trees, that they yielded
fruit in every season of the year, nor ever failed,
even in winter time. Beyond these, all manner of
garden-beds were planted, where flowers bloomed in
never-ending freshness,—the dewy lotus, the
crocus flower, the pale hyacinth, violets, asphodels,
and fair lilies. And in their midst, two springs of
never-failing water gushed: one of them watered the
garden and the fields beyond; the other ran close by
the threshold of the palace, and bubbled up in the
market-square, where all the people came to fill their
vessels.

As Odysseus stood and gazed in rapt delight upon this
scene of beauty, a party of happy maidens came through
the courtyard, and stopped in the garden to pluck the
fruits and flowers. Then on the open lawn,
[231] they fell to
playing ball; and one among them sang a lightsome song
as they tossed the missile to and fro, or danced with
happy feet upon the smooth-mown sward. When they saw
Odysseus standing in the path, they stopped their game,
and stood silent in their places, scarce knowing
whether to advance and greet the stranger kindly, or in
girlish timidness to flee into the palace. The hero
opened then his peddler's pack, and held up to their
delighted gaze a golden necklace set with amber beads.
No further thought of flight had the maidens now. With
eager yet hesitating feet, they came crowding around
him, anxious to see what other thing of beauty he had
brought with him. One by one, he showed them all his
treasures,—ear-rings, bracelets of finest
workmanship, clasps, buckles, head-bands, and golden
hair-pins. These they took in their hands, and, passing
them from one to another, eagerly debated the price.
One only of the company, taller and nobler than the
others, stood aloof, and seemed to care nothing for the
rich and handsome ornaments. Odysseus noticed this, but
shrewdly kept his counsels to himself.

"A merchant like myself," said he, "must needs have
goods for all,—for the young as well as for the old,
for the grave as well as for the gay, for the hero as
well as for the lady. It is his duty no less than his
delight to please."

With these words he laid before the maidens a sword
with hilt most deftly carved, a dagger with long keen
blade, and a helmet thickly inlaid with precious
[232] gems.
The one who had not cared to look at the trinkets now
started quickly as if a trumpet had blown; she took up
the sword, and handled it like a warrior long used to
weapons; she tested the edge of the dagger, and sounded
the strength of the helmet. Odysseus had learned all
that he wished to know. He thought no more of the
ornaments,—the bracelets, the clasps, and the
hair-pins,—but gave them to the maidens for any price
that they chose to offer. When all were pleased and
satisfied, he turned to that one still toying with the
sword, and said sharply,—

"Achilles!"

Had an earthquake shaken the isle of Scyros at that
moment, Achilles would not have been more startled. For
the tall, fair body, clad in a maiden's robes, was none
other than that long-sought hero.

"Achilles," again said Odysseus, "I know thee, and it
is useless to struggle longer against thy destiny. Put
off that unbecoming garb, and come with me. Thy
countrymen need thee to aid them in waging bitter war
against Troy."

Then he told to the listening hero the story of the
great wrong which Paris had done,—the unbearable
insult which he had put upon the folk of Hellas. No man
ever used words more persuasive. When he had ended,
Achilles took him by the hand, and said, "Odysseus,
truly do I know the destiny which is mine, and it
behooves no man to struggle long against the doom which
has been allotted to him. For the gods
[233] ordain that man
should live in pain, while they themselves are
sorrowless. You have heard it said, how on the
threshold of Zeus there stand two caskets full of gifts
to men. One casket holds the evil, and one the good;
and to whomsoever is dealt a mingled lot, upon him
misfortunes sometimes fall, and sometimes blessings. So
it is with me and with my father's house. For upon
Peleus were bestowed rich gifts, even from his birth,
and he excelled all other men in good fortune and in
wealth; and he was king over the Myrmidons; and to him
was given a sea-nymph for a wife, even Thetis, my
goddess-mother. Yet, with all the good, sorrow has come
upon him in his old age; for in his halls there are no
kingly sons to gladden his heart, and hold up his
hands.
I am his only son, and of me it has been written
that I am doomed to an untimely death; and it was for
this that silver-footed Thetis brought me hither across
the sea, and, clothing me in maidenly attire, left me
to serve in Lycomedes' pleasant halls. But I tire of
life like this. I would rather die to-morrow, a hero in
some grand struggle, than live a hundred years among
these soft delights. I will sail with you at once for
Phthia, where my father sits, already bereaved, in his
spacious halls. There I will summon my Myrmidons, and
my best-loved friend Patroclus; and then with eager
hearts we will hasten to join our countrymen in war
against the Trojan power."

. . . . . . . .

[234] Thus, then, did Odysseus perform his quest, and thus
the last and greatest ally was won to the Hellenic
cause. And yet the war was long delayed. Many times did
the moon wax and wane; and seed-time and harvest, and
fruit-gathering, and the storms of winter, came again
and again in their turn,—and still the heroes were
unready to join their forces and enter upon the mighty
struggle.

At length, however, after nearly ten years had passed,
all the princes and warriors of Hellas gathered their
ships and men together at Aulis, and along the shores
of the Euripus. A thousand dark-hulled vessels were
moored in the strait; and a hundred thousand brave men
were on board, ready to follow their leaders
whithersoever they should order.

Chief of all that host was mighty Agamemnon, king of
men, bearing the sceptre of Mycenæ, which
Hephaestus, long before, had wrought most wondrously.
He was clad in flashing armor, and his mind was filled
with overweening pride when he thought how high he
stood among the warriors, and that his men were the
goodliest and bravest of all that host.

Next to him was Menelaus, silent and discreet, by no
means skilled above his fellows, and yet, by reason of
his noble heart, beloved and honored by all the Greeks;
and it was to avenge his wrongs that this mighty array
of men and ships had been gathered together.

Odysseus came next, shrewd in counsels, and no longer
an unwilling hero; but, earnest and active, he
[235] moved
among the men and ships, inspiring all with zeal and
courage. He wore upon his shoulders a thick purple
mantle, clasped with a golden brooch of curious
workmanship, which Penelope had given to him as a
parting gift. Around his waist was a shining tunic,
soft and smooth, and bright as the sunshine. With him,
wherever he went, was his herald and armor-bearer,
Eurybates,—a hunchbacked, brown-skinned, curly-haired
man, whom Odysseus held in high esteem because of his
rare good sense.

There, also, was young Achilles, tall and handsome, and
swift of foot. His long hair fell about his shoulders
like a shower of gold, and his gray eyes gleamed like
those of the mountain eagle. By the shore lay his trim
ships—fifty in all—with thousands of gallant
Myrmidons on board. And ever at his side was his bosom
friend and comrade, Patroclus, the son of Menoitios. He
it was to whom old Peleus had said when they were about
embarking for Aulis, "Thou art older than my child
Achilles, but he is nobler born and mightier far in
warlike deeds. But thou art wise and prudent;
therefore, do thou speak gentle words of warning to
him, and show him what is best to do: he will hearken
to thy words spoken for his good."

There also was Ajax, the valiant son of Telamon, huge
in body and slow in speech, but, next to Achilles, the
bravest of all the host. And the other Ajax, clad in
his linen corslet, and master of forty ships from
Locris, moved also among the mightiest of the heroes.

[236] There, too, was Nestor, the aged king of Pylos, rich in
wisdom and experience, and skilled in persuasive
speech. With him was his son Antilochus, the quondam
suitor of fair Helen, a warrior worthy of such a sire.

And there was Idomeneus, the stalwart chief who ruled
the hundred cities of Crete, and was the sworn friend
of Menelaus, And there was Philoctetes, the cunning
archer, carrying the great bow which had been given him
for his last sad act of friendship to his master,
Heracles. And there was Diomede, of the loud war-cry,
wearing the skin of a great fiery lion round his
shoulders, and marshalling the warriors who had come
with him from Argos, and Tiryns of the mighty walls.
And there, too, among so many others of far greater
worth, was Nireus of Syma, his well-oiled locks as
neatly curled, and his linen as spotlessly white, as
when in youth he had sued for Helen's hand in the court
of old Tyndareus.

Now when the day had come for the fleet to sail, the
chiefs stood upon the shore, and offered solemn
sacrifices to Poseidon, and prayed the gods to prosper
them in their undertaking and bring them safe again to
their loved homes in Hellas. While they were burning
the choicest bits of fat and flesh, behold, a strange
thing happened! From a crevice in the rocks a shining
serpent, with glittering cold eyes and forked tongue,
came creeping silently into the sunlight. The heroes
gazed upon it with wonder in their faces, for they knew
that
[237] it was sent as a sign to them. Not far away stood
a plane-tree, green with foliage, in which a bird had
built her nest; and in the nest were nine tiny
fledglings, tenderly cared for by the mother bird.
Straight to this tree the serpent crept; it twined
around the trunk, and stealthily climbed to the nest;
it seized the helpless little ones in its fangs, and
devoured them; then it darted upon the distressed
mother bird, and destroyed her most pitilessly. But now
a gleam of lightning flashed across the sky, and a peal
of thunder shook the earth and sea. When the astonished
chiefs looked up again, behold, the serpent had been
turned into stone.

"Call Calchas the seer, and let him tell us what this
portends!" they cried.

Then Calchas, his long hair streaming in the wind, his
wild eyes rolling in awe, his gaunt arms waving to and
fro above his head, came and looked upon the wonder.

"Ye men of Hellas!" he cried, "I will tell you what
this portends. As there were nine birds in the nest, ye
shall war nine years against Troy, and shall not
prevail; but, even as the serpent destroyed the
mother bird, so in the tenth year shall the city and
its god-built walls fall into your hands."

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